Flaming Din, Not a Trilogy!
by Davin Sunrider
Summary: After the debacle that was the second story, Davin Sunrider, Dark Side Comedian, thought he was done. But, the Author's dragged him back in for another 'wacky adventure', so now, with Ganondorf's help, he's out for revenge, existential style.
1. Further Obliterating The Fourth Wall

**Flaming Din, Not a Trilogy!**

One

('Further Obliterating The Fourth Wall')

In a vast white expanse of the type used almost universally by writers of fiction to convey a place that wasn't technically real stood two men.

These two men were arguing, and that argument consisted almost entirely of this:

"No."

"Yes."

_"No."_

_"Yes."_

These two men, upon first glance, appeared to be twins or two copies of the same person. Both were tall, skinny, wore glasses and were bearded, though one of them had long hair and the other did not. Both wore flannel shirts and jeans.

The one with short hair glared at the one with long hair. "You have to do what I say," he said. "I'm the Author, and you're one of my characters, so that means you have to do what I tell you to do."

The one with long hair told the one with short hair exactly what he thought of that, in wording that probably shouldn't be repeated in polite company.

The Author glared at the long-haired version of himself. "I mean it, Davin," he said. "I got a haircut, and you're a fictional copy of me, so that means you have to get one, too, before you go off to another adventure in Hyrule. It's not a proper self-insert if the fictional copy isn't exactly like the Author."

Davin crossed his arms and glared at his non-fictional self. "No to the haircut, and double, triple, quadruple, _googleplex_ no to more adventures with Ganondorf. I have had more than enough torture at your hands already. Fourteen chapters of me falling down, getting beaten up and looking foolish are more than enough. And what was with that whole road-trip thing in the second one? That was stupid. No wonder the sequel didn't do as good as the first story."

The Author glared at Davin again, even more furiously. "I'll not be mocked by my own clone."

Davin raised an eyebrow. "I'm not your clone, I'm your fictional double. You know, when most people do this, they make the fictional version of themselves, y'know, cooler or something. I'm not a very flattering version of you."

The Author rolled his eyes. "You're not_ supposed_ to be! It's all a part of the parody. You look like an idiot most of the time because most people try to make themselves look good in self-inserts. I don't have an inferiority complex, I am not disturbed, I'm not seeking sympathy; It's all part of the _joke_."

"I don't think I like that I exist purely as a joke," said Davin. "I think _you're _the joke."

"Oh, that's it!" said the Author, irritably. "You're going back to Hyrule, just for that."

"Aw, dammit," Davin said, just before he vanished in a puff of plot contrivance.

* * *

><p>Davin Sunrider, fictional version of fanfic writer Davin Sunrider, glared at the familiar outline of Hyrule Castle above the central square of Castle Town. He scowled at the citizens of Hyrule going about their business. He glowered at a Goron who asked him if he was all right.<p>

"I meant no offense, little human," the Goron said, puzzled. "It's just that your landing looked a bit painful. Did you get fired out of a cannon?"

"I wouldn't put it past him," Davin replied, dusting himself off.

As he did so, he discovered that he was dressed in sneakers, jeans, a blue-and-green flannel shirt, and his(non-fictional self's) favorite black leather jacket, his laptop bag at his side and his MP3 player and headphones in his pocket. He also had a cell phone, a lighter, a Swiss Army knife, a bigger folding knife on his belt, a now utterly useless set of keys, and a comb.

Davin wondered how much trouble he could get into/cause with the contents of his pockets. He was not at all pleased to be back in another 'wacky adventure', and he fully intended to somehow get revenge on his non-fictional self for doing this to him for a third time.

"Fool me once, shame on you," Davin said. "Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times, and now I get to kick your ass."

"What?" said the Goron, confused.

"Do you know where Ganondorf is?" Davin asked him.

"Back in the desert, as far as I know," said the Goron. "He and the Princess disappeared for a while, and when they came back, Ganondorf gave her back the castle and went to the desert. He said he was going to try to conquer us again in a few months, and the Princess said she wished he wouldn't, but he said he was going to do it anyway and if she didn't like it she could go jump in the lake."

"Cool," said Davin. "See you later."

He set off through the streets for the western gate, whistling with sinister cheerfulness.

The Goron watched him go for a moment. One of his fellow Gorons came over and asked him who he had been talking to.

"I have no idea, Brother," the first Goron said. "No idea at all."

"He seemed nice," said the second Goron.

"Not really," said the first Goron. "He seemed like a wizard, and wizards are never nice."

"I've met nice wizards," said the second Goron.

"You have not," said the first Goron.

"You're right," the second Goron agreed. "Should we go sit on him?"

"We'll sit on him if he comes back," said the first Goron.

"Okay," said the second Goron.

* * *

><p>Much later, Davin trudged through the desert, vaguely in the direction he thought the Gerudo fortress was. It wasn't particularly hot or miserable in the desert yet, since it was fairly early in the morning, but still Davin trudged anyway. Trudging is the almost universally accepted method of transportation through a desert if one does not have a camel or horse or helicopter.<p>

Deserts are boring, first of all. There's nothing to them but rock and sand or worse, sagebrush, which is quite possibly the least useful plant in existence; you can't really burn it, you can't really build anything out of it, and it provides no shade whatsoever. Plus, if you brush up against one, you'll smell like sagebrush for the rest of the day, and they don't really smell all that nice, either; they even _smell_ useless.

In keeping with the Author's twisted imagination, the Gerudo Desert had quite a lot of sagebrush, despite the profound lack of it in canon. Davin already knew the Author didn't care much for canon in these sorts of stories, which started to make his head hurt, because in an odd way, he knew why.

He and the Author were more alike than he wanted to admit.

At least he wasn't tormenting him with The Fangirl anymore.

Right after he thought this, Davin sensed malevolent glee coming from somewhere above him, and he stopped and pointed a finger at the sky. "Don't even think about it," he said warningly. "I'm not kidding."

A vague sense of disappointed, grudging acceptance drifted down, and Davin resumed trudging.

* * *

><p>After a few more hours of trudging, Davin finally encountered the Gerudo deep within the desert. He was first alerted to this fact by an arrow that whistled past his ear and took a few strands of his nearly shoulder-length hair with it.<p>

Davin of course immediately halted after this traditional Gerudo welcome, as he was supposed to. He was also mildly proud of himself for not needing to change his trousers after being startled like that, though he had come closer than he would have liked to admit.

"Identify yourself," an irate female voice demanded from somewhere off to the left.

"I'm Davin Sunrider," he said. "The Dark Side Comedian."

"Oh, I know you," the disembodied voice replied, becoming almost abruptly amused. Suddenly, a hooded head popped up from behind a sagebrush, the lower half of her face wrapped in a scarf. "I think you tried to ask me out on a date once."

Davin frowned. "If you're who I think you are, you laughed in my face, as I recall."

The woman shrugged, her desert cloak shifting with the movement. "I'm _way_ out of your league, dude. What did you expect?"

Davin made an odd face that was halfway between a frown and a smile; the Gerudo were still using 'dude', which made him happy, in an odd sort of way.

"Do you know where I can find Ganondorf?" he asked her.

"He's in the fortress," the Gerudo warrior replied. "I'll take you there."

* * *

><p>When they reached the fortress, Davin was immediately shown to Ganondorf's throne room. The throne room was, as to expected of the throne room of a Dark Lord, dark. It was also hung with a lot of ornate tapestries and weapons and armor and various other bits of treasure, and also some skulls, because Dark Lords always seem to have a few skulls lying around their evil lairs.<p>

Ganondorf, dressed as usual in black plate armor and a long red cloak, sat on his evil throne drinking out of a goblet that appeared to be fashioned from a human skull. He also, anachronistically, wore mirrored State Trooper sunglasses; apparently he'd kept a souvenir from his catastrophic cross-country crime caper in the Real World.

"Hey, Sunrider dude," the Dark Lord greeted him. "I've been expecting you to show up here."

"Your Evilness," Davin said with a quick incline of his head. "How're Link and Zelda?"

"Zelda is back in Hyrule," Ganondorf replied. "Link is here with me." He held up the goblet with an evil grin.

Davin's eyes widened in horror. "Are you serious?"

Ganondorf held his gaze behind the cop sunglasses for a moment before chuckling. "No, I'm just kidding. Link is off somewhere in Hyrule, as far as I know. I have no idea whose skull this is."

"I see," said Davin.

"Oh, hey, I've got something for you," said Ganondorf. He reached behind his throne and produced a cloth bundle, which he tossed across the room to Davin.

Davin caught the bundle and unfolded it, holding it up to look it over. It was, in black and dark red, a bowling shirt with his name embroidered in gold thread on one side and the words 'Dark Side Comedian' on the other. On the back were the words 'TEAM GANONDORF' in large gold letters above a Triforce symbol. There were also bowling pins behind the Triforce, for some reason.

"Hey, thanks," said Davin, grinning. "I've got some friends who would probably like one of these, too. By the way, I've got a favor to ask of you. Can you help me get revenge on somebody?"

"Who?" the Dark Lord asked, setting aside his skull-goblet and leaning forward in his throne.

"You remember that Author guy we met at the end of the last story, the one who it turned out had been doing all this stuff to us?" Davin said.

"The second story got kind of stupid around the last third, so I stopped paying attention, but I think so," said Ganondorf. "Is he that non-fictional version of you?"

"Yeah, that's him," said Davin. "And he's a real jerk, too. Will you help me?"

Ganondorf grinned nastily. "Sunrider dude," he said, "you had me at 'revenge'."

* * *

><p>Author's Note: Yes, this again. I decided five stories going at once weren't enough, so I'm doing more of this. I am (once again) stalled for the moment on my main writing project, so it's time for some silly humor, both because I feel like it, and also so I can claim I'm getting<em> something<em> done. The 'Team Ganondorf' shirt was inspired by a drawing by Silverwolf05, which is in my DeviantArt Favorites, if you'd like to see it. :D

Davin the Dark Side Comedian will return in 'Existential Revenge', coming approximately whenever I feel like writing it. Thanks for reading!


	2. Existential Revenge

Two

('Existential Revenge')

Davin Sunrider, Dark Side Comedian, watched with narrowed eyes as his hurled missile rapidly approached its target. One hand came up to stroke his bearded chin as he waited anxiously, but both hands came up in elation as his target collapsed under the punishing assault.

"That's your fourth strike in a row," said the Dark Lord Ganondorf, nodding appreciatively. "You just might get a perfect game."

Davin walked back to where the Great King of Evil sat on the bench at the end of the lane, one hand on his own bowling ball. The other two members of their team, a Moblin and a Gerudo warrior, lightly put their hands together in acknowledgment of the Dark Side Comedian's bowling skills.

They were in what was quite probably the only bowling alley in all of Hyrule, in the basement of the Gerudo fortress. Ganondorf had fashioned it with magic after returning from the Real World, and now most of the Dark Lord's minions hung out there when not on duty.

Being as it was, built by Ganondorf, it was most definitely an evil bowling alley. In fact, that was its name; Evil Bowling Alley. The Evil Bowling Alley was built of tan sandstone, decorated in black and dark red like most evil buildings, with lots of skulls and grim-looking tapestries. Also as was to be expected, it was rather ominously lit by torches and red candles, and the lanes were outlined in flame for added visibility and general ambiance. The pins were all decorated to look like Hylian soldiers, and it was clear the Dark Lord and his minions had great fun knocking them down with large heavy bowling balls.

Davin wore his 'Team Ganondorf' bowling shirt, as did the rest of Team Ganondorf. In addition to his monogrammed black and dark red bowling shirt, the Dark Lord still wore his purloined State Trooper sunglasses as well as evil shorts and evil bowling shoes. Davin thought amusedly to himself that Ganondorf was probably the only person he knew who could make bowling shoes look sinister.

Grarffnarg the Moblin got up for his turn and picked up his bowling ball, which was painted to resemble a human skull. Actually, Davin thought as he sat down, it could very well be a human skull; you never knew in the Evil Bowling Alley.

"This is an interesting puzzle we have, Sunrider dude," said Ganondorf, taking a sip of his evil soda. "If we all exist in the Author's imagination, how do we get revenge on him without him knowing what we're planning?"

Davin frowned around the straw of his own soda, which was not evil, but merely mildly misbehaving. "Near as I can figure," he said, scratching at his beard, "I'm part of his subconscious, and he has no conscious control over what I do. I'm pretty sure he doesn't control you, either, Your Evilness. He's spent so much time characterizing both of us in the previous two stories that now we're both manifestations of his subconscious and so we can do pretty much whatever we want."

"This is sounding dangerously close to infringing on that movie you were telling me about," said Ganondorf. "Not to mention perhaps a bit too complicated for a silly humor story."

Davin shrugged. "We'll throw in a fart joke or a pratfall somewhere for the people who don't understand all this psychological stuff."

Indeed, when Grarffnarg threw his bowling ball, the Moblin farted loudly and therefore was too distracted to let go. Thus, he was dragged down the lane behind his ball and crashed headfirst into the array of pins, sending them flying everywhere. He grunted embarrassedly as he attempted to extricate himself from the ball-retrieval system, but the mechanism was too strong and so Grarffnarg was dragged back to wherever bowling balls go after they knock over the pins.

"Does that count?" said the Gerudo warrior, whose name happened to be Nabooru. Davin wasn't sure if she was _the_ Nabooru, but he guessed it didn't really matter in a Hyrule this weird.

Ganondorf shrugged. "Why not?"

"Strike for Grarffnarg, then," Nabooru said, marking it on the score sheet.

"So what you're saying is," Ganondorf said around a mouthful of evil popcorn, "this Hyrule exists deep within the Author's subconscious, and so we can do whatever we like because he can't control us."

"That's right," said Davin, taking a bite out of a mildly misbehaving hot dog.

"And," Ganondorf went on, "the Author only really interacts with us when he's asleep and dreaming."

"Or just daydreaming when he's supposed to be doing something else," said Davin, flicking a spot of lint off the knee of his jeans.

"Or he's completely aware of all of this," said Nabooru, eating some just-following-orders jellybeans, "you're both under his complete control, and he's doing all of this totally on purpose so that anyone watching will laugh at how silly this is."

Davin and Ganondorf looked at Nabooru, then each other, then back at Nabooru.

"I highly doubt that," said the Dark Lord.

Davin scoffed. "Yeah, there's no way he's that smart."

They turned at a scuffle as Grarffnarg squirmed out of the ball-return next to their seats, carefully set his skull-ball back down on the rack, then took his seat on the semicircular bench next to Nabooru. "What's my score?" he inquired, rubbing his snout.

"Strike," Nabooru told him.

Grarffnarg pumped both hairy, muscular arms in the air. "All right!" he exclaimed. "Evil five!"

Nabooru slapped his outstretched hand, then turned hers over for him to slap in return.

Ganondorf got up for his turn and picked up his ball. The Dark Lord's ball was painted to resemble a fireball, though from the way it flickered, it could very easily have been an actual fireball. The King of Evil held his ball up, frowning in concentration, then wound back and hurled it down the lane in a screaming streak of fire.

Davin noticed with disturbed amusement that the pins actually shrieked in terror before Ganondorf's ball plowed into them, sending them flying back into wherever bowling pins go when you knock them over.

Ganondorf turned and casually pumped one fist. "Strike," he said with a satisfied grin.

"Not quite," Nabooru said, gesturing back down the lane with her pen.

One solitary pin remained standing.

Ganondorf glared at it over the rims of his cop sunglasses, and the pin emitted a squeak before suddenly wobbling and then falling over.

The Dark Lord looked over at the Gerudo warrior. "Strike," he said again.

The red-haired woman arched an eyebrow that said he wasn't fooling anybody, but marked it as a strike anyway. She got up for her turn and picked up her ball, by all appearances a perfectly ordinary bowling ball with a swirling red-and-orange pattern.

As Nabooru stared down the lane at the pins in preparation for her throw, Davin turned to Ganondorf again. "What's the best way of getting revenge on the Author, do you think?"

"Drive him insane," Ganondorf replied. "Twist Hyrule into a land of madness so terrifying that he never ventures here again."

"Yeah, but we have to live here," Davin pointed out. "I realize _you'd_ be perfectly happy with, what'd you call it, a 'land of madness', but the rest of us would probably rather have a Hyrule that's nice to live in."

He glanced over as Nabooru threw her ball with deadly precision, and it rolled perfectly down the lane and knocked over every single pin. She sauntered back to her seat and marked a strike on the score sheet, smiling in satisfaction. "And that was without cheating," she said to Ganondorf teasingly.

"I do _not_ cheat, woman," the Dark Lord said indignantly. "It's not my fault I'm so intimidating."

"I forgot we were playing by 'Ganondorf rules'," said Nabooru, still grinning mischievously. "Which is to say, none at all."

Ganondorf frowned and rather pointedly did not respond, instead turning back to Davin. "So what you're saying is, you don't want a land of ash, smoke, and lava, with the entire population enslaved to do our evil bidding?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of all of us getting along for the most part," Davin said. "Maybe add a few more interesting canyons and ruins to explore, but otherwise, I'd like to live here as it is, if I have to." He leaned back in his seat. "What kind of evil bidding could you possibly have, anyway? Once you conquer the world, _then_ what are you going to do with it?"

"Build a lot of statues of myself, I suppose," Ganondorf replied, idly tossing a small fireball from hand to hand. "Maybe persecute people for a while."

"Nah," Davin said dismissively. "That's what every evil conqueror does. You gotta come up with something original, man. Like, zombies or something. You could conjure a couple legions of the undead, and we could be gritty, determined survivors fighting them off."

"Why would I conquer the world with zombies?" Ganondorf said scornfully. "I'd just have to kill them all after they ate everybody, and _then_ what do I do? Rebuild civilization? Pfft!" The Dark Lord sneered. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm more of a 'destruction' guy than a 'construction' guy."

"What in the world are you two talking about?" said Nabooru, looking at them incredulously. "I swear, you two are the most-"

But, she was interrupted by an only slightly unusual event in the Evil Bowling Alley; a Lizalfos flying through the air to crash into the seats at the back of one of the lanes.

Davin turned to see what the commotion was, only to discover that it was the Chosen Nuisance himself, Link the Hero, striding boldly into the Evil Bowling Alley like, well, a hero.

"What's this den of iniquity?" Link demanded, marching over to Team Ganondorf's lane and gesturing wildly at the ball-return. "What manner of fiendish torture devices are these? Does your evil truly know no bounds, Dark Lord?" For good measure, he stabbed a Bulblin that, to be honest, really hadn't done anything other than emit a confused grunt as he walked past.

"It's a bowling alley," Ganondorf said, nonplussed.

"_Bowling_, eh?" Link exclaimed in righteous fury. "And what manner of depraved, ghoulish activity is _bowling?_"

"Bowling is actually the least depraved sport I can think of," Davin said from his seat, taking a casual sip of his mildly misbehaving soda. "Except maybe golf, although I've heard some pretty blue language on the golf course."

"Oh, nobody asked you," Link snapped at Davin. "And get a haircut; you look like a hippie."

"You'd know," Davin said with a snarky grin.

"Shut up, you," Link snapped.

"Pants on your head, pants on your head," Davin sang, still grinning obnoxiously. "Lookin' like a fool with your pants on your- whoa!" Davin ducked as Link snatched a plate of moderately unpleasant nachos from a passing Darknut and hurled them at him.

"Oi!" the Darknut exclaimed irritably, his deep voice echoing within his enormous helmet. "I was going to eat those, you little ponce!"

"So?" Link sneered at the Darknut, who was a good two feet taller than he was and probably outweighed him by two hundred pounds. "What are you going to do about it?"

The Darknut happened to have three friends, just as tall and heavily armed and armored as himself. Slowly, the armored giants rose from their seats and moved to stand next to their comrade.

Link looked markedly less confident, but did not back down.

"You know, BoneEater," one of the Darknuts said to his friend, "I think this little fellow is one o' them, what d'you call 'em, contortionists."

"Oh, really, BloodDrinker?" BoneEater said. "What do you think, IntestineChewer?"

A third Darknut pondered this. "I think BloodDrinker's right," he said. "'e looks like 'e can twist 'imself inna lit'l ball. What d'you say we see if 'e can do it, BrainGnasher? Maybe 'e's lucky, get us a strike?"

BrainGnasher's accent was so thick it was incomprehensible, but the general sentiment was, 'Let's go for it.'

"Why do they have English accents?" Davin whispered to Ganondorf.

"The Author watched too much Monty Python as a kid?" the Dark Lord guessed.

"That actually explains a lot," said Davin.

As they had threatened, the four Darknuts rolled the Chosen Nuisance into a ball and bowled him.

"Oh, 'e missed two pins!" IntestineChewer complained. "You rolled 'im crooked, BoneEater!"

"Well then, _you_ do better," BoneEater said as Link came up through the ball-return.

"Maybe I will!" said IntestineChewer, and he grabbed the Nuisance-ball.

"If I buy you some replacement nachos, will you let me go?" Link said as IntestineChewer approached the lane.

"No," said IntestineChewer, and bowled him.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: Thanks very much to all the reviewers; I'm glad to see you're all enjoying this already. I'm having far too much fun with it, myself. :D<p>

Davin the Dark Side Comedian will return in 'More Evil Sports', coming soon.


	3. More Evil Sports And Drinking

Three

('More Evil Sports. And Drinking. Evil Drinking, Too.')

Davin Sunrider, Dark Side Comedian, idly waved his sneakered feet in tune to the heavy metal soundtrack blaring from the Dark Lord Ganondorf's 5.1 Surround Sound System Of Doom. He was currently draped lazily over an Evil Recliner, his feet up on the headrest, his head hanging upside down with his long hair nearly brushing the floor, watching the antics of the Dark Lord's minions on a truly enormous TV in Ganondorf's Evil Rec Room.

On the TV, a squad of Darknuts and Moblins were chasing Link the Chosen Nuisance through a maze, with ominous, thundering, extremely badass heavy metal playing as their theme music. Link had AutoTuned, overly cheerful, synthesizer-heavy electro-pop as his theme, since it was thoroughly despised by Ganondorf and all in his employ.

The Dark Lord himself was equally lazily draped over an Evil Couch, a nice cold beer in one hand. There were definite perks to being a tremendously powerful sorcerer.

Grarffnarg the Moblin was lying on the floor in front of Ganondorf's couch like an oversized dog, noisily slurping his own beer and demolishing a large bowl of popcorn. True to fashion, he was getting more of it on the floor than in his mouth, but whatever escaped Grarffnarg's maw, he simply licked off the floor later.

All three laughed as Link tripped on a rock in the maze, narrowly avoiding the swipe of a Darknut's war-hammer. A secret panel opened up in the maze's wall, sending the Chosen Nuisance tumbling down a steep incline.

"I should have made myself a television sooner," Ganondorf said in between chuckles. "You just don't get the same effect from a crystal ball."

Davin slowly took another sip of his own beer; slowly because his head was currently upside down and this understandably made drinking a bit challenging, and also because his current beer was not his first of the afternoon. Spending lazy afternoons at Ganondorf's fortress was oddly more fun than he'd thought it would be.

They all laughed again as Link dodged a spinning blade that leaped from the wall at him, taking his hat and a few locks of his hair with it.

"I told ya you needed a haircut!" Davin chuckled.

He turned his head at the sound of approaching footsteps and saw Nabooru picking her way through the assorted empty bottles, cans, and bags thrown carelessly on the floor. Even upside down, her disapproving frown was obvious.

"You're having another productive strategy session, I see," the warrior said, passing her gaze around the Evil Rec Room.

"Yep," said Davin.

"Yep," said Ganondorf.

"Mm-hmm," said Grarffnarg, taking another slurp of his beer.

"I thought you were supposed to be getting revenge on this Author fellow," Nabooru said. "I haven't seen you do anything besides drink, watch television, and go bowling for the last month."

"We're working up to it," said Davin, carefully taking another sip. He'd gotten enough beer up his nose already today.

"You're blocking the screen," said Ganondorf, leaning to one side.

Grarffnarg belched and scratched himself.

Nabooru let out a long-suffering sigh. "Men," she muttered disgustedly, then left.

"Hey," Davin drawled in the manner of someone who's had a few beers in the last couple hours, which he had. "You ever heard of this 'Kick a Ginger Day' thing, man?"

"No," Ganondorf said, looking over at him. "Is this another strange Real World holiday?"

"I wouldn't call it a holiday," Davin said. "It's this thing where jerkasses organize groups on the Internet, then go out and kick people with red hair."

Ganondorf, as expected, didn't think much of this idea. "WHAT?" the Dark Lord bellowed, spilling his beer in his indignation.

"It's true," Davin drawled. "They go find people with red hair, an' they... they _kick_ 'em!"

"Why in the world would they do that?" Ganondorf demanded, his fists clenching.

Davin shrugged. "I don't know. Not a whole lot of people have red hair in the Real World, so maybe they're jealous or something."

Ganondorf pounded a fist into his other hand. "I'd like to see them try to kick _this_ redhead," he growled.

Davin tugged at the whiskers on his right cheek. "I have a real big patch of red in my beard, so I feel like I have the right to be insulted, too," he said. "I saw a guy doin' that to this ginger dude who was mindin' his own business once, so I... I kicked _him_!" Davin kicked one of his feet for emphasis, but this made him do an unintentional flip out of the chair and onto the floor.

Ganondorf slapped his thigh, in the throes of a belly laugh. Grarffnarg snorted, pounding the floor with his hairy fists as Davin drunkenly tried to stand up and get back in his chair, only to discover he couldn't quite manage to get off the floor.

Eventually, Davin decided to stay sprawled on the floor, since clearly it liked him where he was.

"Now, I want to know something," Ganondorf said when he finally stopped laughing. "Was it the Author who kicked this ginger-kicker, or was it you?"

"Why's that matter?" Davin asked.

"If it was the Author who kicked him, it actually happened," Ganondorf clarified. "If _you_ did it, that means he imagined it. Or you did." He scrunched his brows in thought. "If a figment of an imagination imagines something, did the figment imagine it, or did the person whose imagination it is imagine it? How many levels can an imagination go?"

Davin pondered this until he decided his brain was too pickled to sort it out. Thus, he took a nap.

* * *

><p>Later, Davin sat at the bar in the Evil Bowling Alley, his forearm on the cool stone countertop, aching head pillowed on his arm. "I wish the Author wasn't a writer," he mumbled miserably.<p>

"Why's that?" asked the Lizalfos bartender.

"His imagination is so detailed that I have a killer hangover," Davin explained, marveling at the fact that even his _beard_ ached.

"Maybe you shouldn't drink so much in the afternoons, then," the Lizalfos said, perhaps a bit disapprovingly. "You are supposed to be planning revenge, after all."

Davin raised his head just enough to glare at the scaly bartender. "I'm getting to it. A detailed strategy to get revenge on the person whose imagination you inhabit doesn't form overnight, you know."

"Drinking and watching television all the time certainly don't help," the bartender said, spraying disinfectant into a pair of bowling shoes.

"Hey!" Davin mumbled defensively into the countertop. "I haven't wasted the _whole_ month." He paused for a moment, wishing the sound of bowling pins falling down wasn't quite so thunderous. "I've been bowling, too."

"Oh, right," said the bartender. "I forgot about the bowling. That's certainly productive."

Davin raised his head to glare at the Lizalfos again. "You're awfully judgmental for a lizard-man, you know that? You're almost as bad as what's-her-name, that gal with the red hair that can kick my ass."

"You're going to have to be more specific," said the bartender. "There are dozens of women like that here."

"And not one of them will go out with me," Davin sighed.

"It's probably because you don't do anything besides drink and watch television all day," the bartender observed. "Those aren't exactly attractive qualities." The Lizalfos paused. "Plus, you are kinda ugly."

"Said the talking lizard who eats bugs," Davin growled. He slowly got to his feet. "Fine," he said, bracing himself against the counter. "I'll go revenge him right now. I'll revenge him right good."

He took one step and toppled right to the floor.

"Just as soon as I regain the ability to stand up."

* * *

><p>The next day, Ganondorf and his bowling team sat around the throne room, once again trying to come up with strategies for revenge. Again, like every other time they'd sat down to plan strategy for the last month, the conversation devolved into a discussion of something completely irrelevant to revenge.<p>

"Do people ever give you crap because of your beard?" Davin asked the Dark Lord.

"Not really," said Ganondorf, stroking his impressive red chin curtain.

"I grew my beard because I wanted to see what I looked like with one. I liked it, so I kept it," Davin said, idly rubbing a fingernail over the stone carvings on the arm of his chair. "But all my friends keep asking me why. It's like they don't believe it's that simple or something. I've had it for almost an entire year, and still I get, 'Why are you trying to look like a hobo?' or some crap like that. I keep it trimmed!"

"Sunrider dude," Ganondorf said sagely, "anyone who doesn't like your beard is not really your friend. Any man who mocks your beard is just jealous that he doesn't look so manly and awesome."

"You're probably right," Davin said. "Plus, it gets _cold_ in the winter where I live. I don't see why more guys around here don't have beards."

"You mean where the Author lives," said Nabooru. "_You_ live in the version of Hyrule that exists in his imagination. The only friends _you_ have are right here in this room, and the ones who can grow beards already have them. Nobody's giving you any crap for _your_ beard."

"Must you always be so... right?" Davin demanded irritably.

"I'm a woman," she said, as if it should be obvious.

"That means you only _think_ you're right all the time," Davin replied, "not that you actually _are._"

Nabooru dropped a hand to the hilt of her scimitar. "I can hurt you."

Davin raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Oh, threats of violence. How enlightened."

"I live in a quasi-medieval culture," Nabooru said. "Violence is the solution to a surprising number of problems here."

"Violence is the go-to solution in the 21st century, too," Davin observed. "It seems to me that we haven't gotten any more enlightened as a species since the Dark Ages; we've just found more sophisticated ways to oppress and slaughter each other."

"Save your preachy bullcrap for somebody who actually cares," Ganondorf growled. "We're supposed to be plotting revenge here."

"Can we go plot in the bowling alley?" Grarffnarg asked. "We're supposed to be playing against the Darknut team tomorrow, and I want to get some practice in."

"We're on Ganondorf's team," Nabooru said. "They're just going to let us win, anyway."

"I know," Grarffnarg replied. "But I want to beat them by a really huge margin this time. That BoneEater fellow called me fat the other day, and I want to have a victory I can really rub his faceplate in."

Nabooru turned to Davin. "You are the worst thing to ever happen to this organization," she said.

"How's that?" Davin inquired defensively.

Nabooru gestured around the throne room. "Your laziness is so infectious that we haven't gotten any decent conquering done since you got here. Even Ganondorf does nothing but sit around in the Evil Rec Room all day drinking beer and watching his minions torment Link."

Ganondorf started to object, but realized she was right and so just glared at her instead. Nabooru was completely unfazed.

"Wait a minute," Davin said slowly, in the midst of a dreadful realization. "Are you telling me that by joining the Evil Side, I'm inadvertently serving the interests of Good by being so lazy that none of my evil comrades are getting anything done?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Nabooru answered. "You are so terrible at being evil that you're actually doing good."

Davin got up. "I need a beer," he announced. "That's too depressing to think about."

"I think you're developing a drinking problem," Nabooru cautioned.

"Only if I start pouring it on my face," Davin quipped, heading for the door.

"Did that smartass just reference a 30-year-old movie at me?" Nabooru demanded of Grarffnarg incredulously.

The Moblin shrugged. "At least he didn't call you Shirley."

"You realize those of us who haven't seen this movie have no idea what you're talking about?" Ganondorf said. "Making obscure references just alienates your audience."

"Don't care!" Davin called from the hallway, heading determinedly for the bar.

"Obscure reference?" Grarffnarg said. "Dude, who hasn't seen 'Airplane!' yet? It's been around for 30 years."

The Dark Lord thumped his breastplate with one hand. "Me!"

Grarffnarg laid a hairy hand on Ganondorf's shoulder. "Come on; Davin conjured up the DVD a while ago and we all watched it. You seriously need to catch up if you're going to understand Sunrider dude's sense of humor."

Ganondorf frowned in puzzlement. "He's not actually a Great and Mighty Wizard; how did he conjure it?"

Grarffnarg shrugged. "Maybe Sunrider _is_ a Great and Mighty Wizard."

"Or," Nabooru offered in counterpoint, "since this is all a product of his non-fictional self's imagination, he just imagined it. You know, like in that movie he's massively ripping off for this whole surrealist thing he's doing, except it's funny." She shrugged. "Supposed to be, anyway."

Ganondorf snorted with laughter. "Davinception!" he exclaimed, chuckling.

Grarffnarg barked with laughter. "That should totally be the title of the next chapter."

"Agreed," Nabooru said. "Clearly, we're not getting anything done this chapter, so we might as well go bowling until the next one starts. Maybe with a clever title like that, he'll do something besides talk about drinking too much. That really sets a bad example for the younger members of the audience, you know. They're awfully impressionable."

Ganondorf nodded and stood up. "Bowling it is. First round's on me!"

"You magically conjure all the food and drinks," Nabooru pointed out. "_All_ the rounds are on you."

"Will you be quiet so the chapter can end, already?" Ganondorf said. "It's been in falling action too long already, and the audience is getting restless. Davin getting up to go drink is clearly the last major plot point of the chapter, so we should have ended five minutes ago."

"You telling me to be quiet and ranting added two_ more_ minutes!" Nabooru objected. "Who's wasting more time, me or you?"

"All this is time that could be spent bowling and getting wasted," Grarffnarg said impatiently. "Why don't you _both_ shut up?"

"How'd you like to get turned into a Chu?" Ganondorf snarled.

"You're going to turn me into a sneeze?" Grarffnarg said confusedly. "That's both terrifying and disgusting. And I'm a Moblin; I _know_ disgusting."

"I'm not playing 'What's On First' with you," Ganondorf said through clenched teeth.

"It's '_Who's_ On First'," Grarffnarg corrected. "And you've heard of that but you haven't seen 'Airplane!'? How does _that_ happen?"

"Maybe I will turn you into a sneeze!" Ganondorf roared, energy flickering around his hands. "Then I can just wipe you off on my cloak and be done with you!"

"Dude, I'd rather you didn't," said Grarffnarg. "I have laundry duty tomorrow, and plus, washing _myself_ out of a cloak could prove rather difficult."

"MOVE IT!" Ganondorf bellowed.

Grarffnarg squeaked and scurried off to the Evil Bowling Alley.

Ganondorf caught the disapproving look Nabooru gave him. "What?"

"You really shouldn't scare your minions so much," she said. "Constantly looking over their shoulder in case you're going to jump out from behind a corner is really interfering with their productivity."

Ganondorf raised a mocking eyebrow. "I thought Davin and I sitting around all day was interfering with productivity. If you're so worried about it, why don't _you_ boss the minions around for a while? You're my second-in-command, after all."

Nabooru frowned. "I don't think that's the proper usage of 'I'," she said. "You should have said 'me' instead. I could be wrong, though; that is tricky."

"You're correcting my grammar now?" Ganondorf growled exasperatedly. "You're just determined to drag this out until I let you win one of our arguments, aren't you?"

"Hey!" Nabooru objected. "You don't have to _let_ me win an argument. You lose them just by being wrong."

"I could win them by frying your ass!" Ganondorf retorted.

Nabooru crossed her arms. "I'm the most competent solider in your organization; you're too concerned with strategy to 'fry my ass' over a simple argument."

"I'm certainly considering it!" Ganondorf exclaimed. "Now go to the bowling alley and get drunk with Sunrider. That's an order."

"I still think all these references to alcohol are unneccesary," Nabooru said. "Just because Davin is over 21 doesn't mean the entire audience is. You're setting a poor example by portraying drinking in such a positive light."

"I set a poor example already through all the conquering and slaughtering I do," Ganondorf countered. "No one with any sense would be emulating me, anyway."

"We're talking about people watching a ridiculous humor story on the Internet," Nabooru counter-countered. "Sense is already out of the equation."

"For someone so worried about the audience, you certainly are insulting them a lot," Ganondorf observed.

Nabooru opened her mouth to object, but realized he was right. The only solution to losing an argument like that, obviously, was to go get drunk in the bowling alley.

So they did.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: Fourth wall? What fourth wall? ;)<p>

Sunrider Studios, also known as me, my laptop and my chair, does not endorse or encourage the irresponsible consumption of alcoholic beverages, especially by those underage. Drunken stupidity is much less amusing in real life, especially for the people who have to clean it up, and therefore should be performed only by fictional entities. There, now you can't sue me and claim I influenced you to do something stupid. ;P

Davin the Dark Side Comedian will return in 'Davinception', coming soon sometime.


	4. Davintervention

Four

('Davintervention')

Davin Sunrider, Dark Side Comedian, was drunk.

This was technically allowed, since he was over 21, but it was not necessarily a good idea, as is often the case with drunkenness.

Davin was, at the moment, passed out on the floor of the Evil Rec Room, cheek pillowed on his luscious manly face-hairiness, also known as a beard.

Also passed out on the floor were Grarffnarg the Moblin and the Dark Lord Ganondorf, the three of them having gone on a truly legendary bender the night before, exact details of which none of them would ever remember with any real clarity.

Currently, Ganondorf had Link's hat on one of his feet, was not wearing pants, and for unknown reasons had somehow managed to wrap his cloak around his head into a comically large turban. Grarffnarg _was_ wearing pants, but given that they were on his head, they were rather less than useful to him at the moment.

Also, Ganondorf wore bright red boxers. _Bright_ red, as in sear-the-retinas red.

It was weird.

Davin was for some reason wearing his underwear on the outside of his pants and had also donned a large red cloak. From this, it could be inferred that he had been drunkenly pretending to be a superhero the night before, but as previously stated, the sheer volume of alcohol ingested made any details rather hazy. If ever there was a cautionary tale as to why drunkenness was generally a bad idea, this was it.

"HEY!" an irate female voice shouted in Davin's ear, making his brain do incredibly painful flips. "WAKE UP, JACKASS!"

"I'll get right on that," he mumbled, squinting up at the angry red-haired figure above him. "Just as soon as I pay obeisance to the throne."

"What?" the red-haired figure said confusedly.

"Help me to the bathroom," Davin clarified. "What went down must come up, if you catch my drift."

"Gross," the red-haired figure said disgustedly. She hauled him to his feet none-too-gently, dragged him to the bathroom, and roughly shoved him inside. "If you make a mess in there, you're cleaning it up!" she shouted through the door.

The noise Davin made a moment later was not a reply, so she left him alone.

* * *

><p>A few hours later, a large number of Gerudo herded Ganondorf and Davin into the throne room, refusing to explain why. They were both allowed sunglasses and to put on pants(in the correct order, in Davin's case) and were given something cold to put against their aching heads.<p>

Hangovers are not in any sense of the word fun. They are your body's way of telling you, "Never ever drink that much alcohol that fast again."

Listen to your body.

"Why are we here?" Ganondorf asked groggily, massaging his temples with the fingers of one huge hand. The other held the (still-sealed) cold beer against his forehead.

Ganondorf was quite a large fellow, which gave an indication of just how legendary last night's bender had been in order for him to still have this big of a headache this much later.

"Ganondorf," Nabooru said gently, placing a hand on his arm, "you have a problem."

"And what would that be?" Davin asked, blinking slowly behind his sunglasses.

"SHUT UP, YOU!" the Gerudo standing next to him shouted in his ear.

This was, as intended, quite painful, and thus Davin shut up.

Nabooru pointed across the throne room at Davin. "Him."

"Him what?" Ganondorf said.

"He's your problem," Nabooru clarified. "Ever since you met him, things have gone downhill for us. First, he somehow ended up here and introduced a large number of odd words and customs to the organization. Then, you decided to follow him back to the Real World, which interrupted our invasion plans, and then, when he finally came back, you've done nothing but sit around and drink beer with him the entire time."

"I'm allowed to have a friend if I want," Ganondorf said defensively.

"How long have you considered me your friend?" Davin asked curiously.

"Since not long after we met," Ganondorf answered.

Davin raised his brows. "If the way you've treated me is any indication, it is, Dark Lord dude, quite apparent why you don't have many friends."

"I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP!" the Gerudo warrior standing next to him screamed.

"Okay, you are not helping," Davin said, leaning away from her.

"I DON'T CARE!"

"We've brought you here to help you deal with your problem," Nabooru went on, sending a 'cool it' look to Davin's guard. "We're all very concerned about you, Ganondorf."

Davin groaned. "Flaming Din, it's an intervention."

"That explains the chapter title," Grarffnarg observed from his post behind Ganondorf's throne. "I thought it was going to be 'Davinception', but apparently there's been a change in plans."

"And I'm the thing that's being intervened," Davin said. He scrunched his brows in thought. "Or, wait, it's Ganondorf that's being intervened and I'm the thing that he's being intervened about." He held up a hand when his guard began to draw in breath. "Yes, yes, shut up. I get it."

"We were hoping to bring it up a little more gently," Nabooru said, "but yes; we want you to get rid of Sunrider."

"I'm not killing Sunrider!" Ganondorf said indignantly. "He makes me laugh and he's a cool dude to hang out with, which is more than I can say about any of you!"

"Frankly, we don't care," Nabooru said. "As far as we're concerned, your job as King is to provide the Gerudo with the next generation of children and the means to care for them. To put it plainly, you're being a deadbeat dad."

"I am _not!_" Ganondorf rebutted.

Nabooru raised a disapproving brow. "Oh? When was the last time you actually spent any time with your daughters? When was the last time you led a raid into Hyrule for water and food?"

"We don't need to raid anymore," Ganondorf said. "I use my magic to provide for us now."

"Beer and nachos are not exactly high in nutritional content," Nabooru pointed out.

Ganondorf scowled at her behind his thick black frames.

"You've had your fun, but now it's time for the vacation to end," Nabooru went on. "Ditch the dork and let's go conquer Hyrule like we should have a long time ago."

"Hey!" Davin objected. "I am a nerd, not a dork. Get it right."

"_Dork_," Nabooru said pointedly. "While 'nerd' may have been reclaimed, 'dork' is still an insult. Dork."

"You are so lucky I'm hungover right now," Davin growled, one hand clenching into a fist.

"I could kick your ass in three seconds flat if you were dead sober and I had both arms tied behind my back," Nabooru said scornfully.

"There you go being infuriatingly _right_ again," Davin grumbled. "Do you have any idea how annoying that is?"

"You know I'm right, Ganondorf," Nabooru said, ignoring him. "The best decision you could make as King right now would be to throw Sunrider out on his bony ass and ride into Hyrule scimitars swinging."

"Done," Ganondorf said without hesitation. "You're right, Nabooru. It's time to kick some ass." He gestured vaguely in Davin's direction. "Do as the lady said; throw him out."

"Just like that?" Davin said indignantly as a pair of warriors hauled him to his feet. "I thought I was your friend, dude!"

"I'm the King of Evil, _dude_," Ganondorf said with chilling mockery. "I don't need friends."

"You're a real bastard, you know that?" Davin snapped as he was dragged from the throne room.

"I'm a Dark Lord," Ganondorf replied, leaning back in his throne with a grin. "It's part of the job."

* * *

><p>"The least you could do if you're going to ABANDON me NAKED in the middle of the freaking DESERT," Davin howled at the retreating group of Gerudo who had left him here, "is not LAUGH!"<p>

Davin scowled with all the fury he possessed at the swiftly departing group of mounted warriors, and shouted after them what he hoped happened to them and the horses they'd rode in on. On Ganondorf's orders, they'd brought him here, and, quite unexpectedly, forced him at sword-point to surrender everything he possessed aside from his sunglasses and his underwear, on the grounds that no one wanted to see that. _No one._

The only possible thing they could have done to humiliate him further would have been to shave off his beard. Apparently even Ganondorf wouldn't stoop that low, fortunately.

What Davin really wanted to know was why Ganondorf had had such a quick turn-around. One minute, he'd been defending Davin as his friend, and quite nearly literally the next minute had ordered him taken deep into the desert, stripped, and abandoned to fend for himself.

Davin knew only one person so evil, so sadistic, so mind-bogglingly awful and devoid of any redeeming features of character as to invent such a thing.

This, he knew, was the work of the Author.

It seemed to Davin that his plot for revenge had spectacularly backfired, and now he was without his only ally in that fight.

Things were not going well.

"Hello... bonehead," a voice said behind him, causing Davin to perform a startled leap almost five feet straight up in the air.

When his feet touched down against the burning sands, Davin slowly turned around, knowing he was utterly at the mercy of whoever had spoken.

It turned out to be none other than the Chosen Nuisance himself, Link. He had emerged from behind a nearby outcropping of rock and now stood with weapons at the ready.

He was also laughing in mockery.

"Hey!" Davin snapped. "You forget, Mr. Big Impressive Hero-Type Jerk, about that evening we spent in the hippie camp in the last story. I have seen you without pants on. You have absolutely _no_ grounds to be laughing at me right now."

That shut him up.

"What are you doing here?" Link demanded with an embarrassed glare.

"Ganon kicked me out," Davin replied. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I escaped," Link answered. "I got lost, and I've been wandering around this desert for two days now. You don't have any water, do you?"

Davin placed his fists on his hips and glared at Link. "Where, exactly, could I be hiding a canteen? In my beard?"

"Rumor is you're a Great and Mighty Wizard," Link said defensively. "You never know."

"If I was a Great and Mighty Wizard," Davin snapped derisively, "I wouldn't still be wandering around the desert in my _underpants,_ would I?"

"Wizards are weird," Link pointed out. "That doesn't prove anything."

"Shut up and give me your tunic," Davin growled.

Link smirked and held up his sword. "Make me."

In reply to this, Davin gave him the most venomous of glares, one that promised in excruciating detail just exactly what Davin would do to him if he didn't hand over that tunic _this very instant_, and if Link didn't want him to do it anyway, he'd throw in the boots, too.

Link dropped his sword, quickly shrugged out of his green tunic, and tossed it to Davin, who, upon discovering it was too small(Link was a full foot shorter and weighed at least fifty pounds less), ripped it lengthwise and turned it into a makeshift headcloth instead.

"And the boots," Davin said as he finished tying the last knot.

"But then _I_ won't have any shoes," Link complained.

"Fine, keep 'em," Davin snapped. "Wouldn't fit me, anyway." He stomped off through the desert, heading east.

"Can... Can I come with you?" Link called.

Davin stopped and turned around. "No."

"Please?" Link took a few steps forward.

Davin responded by taking a few steps backward.

He stepped in a hole and fell on his ass.

Link took this as a sign of acceptance, and hurried to join him.

Davin was so grouchy at that point that he genuinely did not care, and let him.

Together they set off in the general direction of Hyrule, one bent on revenge, one bent on trying harder not to get beat up so much in the future, because that was really starting to get embarrassing for someone who was supposed to be the nation's greatest warrior.

* * *

><p>That night, huddled back-to-back against a boulder in a vain attempt to shelter themselves from the frigid desert wind, Davin and Link made their plans.<p>

"You should help me get revenge on the Author," Davin said to Link.

"Why?" the Chosen Nuisance said. "He's not _my_ creator. My creator's never done anything this mean to me. He's a pleasant little Japanese fellow who's sent me on some pretty interesting adventures over the years."

"The Author _is_ your creator," Davin said over his shoulder. "He's the one who thought up this stupid, hapless version of Link, i.e. you, and so you have just as much reason to revenge him as I do."

Davin felt the muscles in Link's back tense as he thought this over and realized it was true. The Chosen Nuisance remained quiet for a long time, leaving the howling wind the only sound in the darkness.

Since that was rather too poetic a description for a silly humor story, the next sound they heard was a loud fart. It was followed by another which squeaked at the end, and the truly horrid smell swiftly followed.

"Wizard dude?" a gruff voice called through the darkness. "Wizard dude, are you out here?"

"Grarffnarg?" Davin said in puzzlement before he could stop himself.

A torch-bearing figure appeared around the boulder, grinning delightedly when it saw them. Davin never thought he would be so happy to see a Moblin, but there it was.

"What are you doing here?" Davin asked, getting to his feet.

Grarffnarg endeared himself to Davin forever by offering a large cloth bundle which turned out to be a set of clothes and a warm cloak. "I didn't think it was fair, the way Dark Lord dude kicked you out, so I decided I'd come work for you instead."

"Work for me?" Davin said in surprise as he fastened his trousers.

"Well, sure," said Grarffnarg. "Don't take this the wrong way, but of all the villains I've met, you're the one that's the least of a jerk."

"I'm not a villain," Davin said, buckling his boots. He ignored the awkward grammar; he wasn't _that_ much of a jerk.

Grarffnarg gave him a frank look. "You're on your way to get revenge on someone who doesn't really deserve it. What's that if not villain behavior?"

"I concede your point," Davin said, buttoning up his shirt. "I guess I'm an Evil Great and Mighty Wizard, then. Cloak, please."

"There are very few who aren't," Link observed. "Especially ones who insist on calling themselves Great and Mighty all the time."

Davin raised the hood of his cloak. "Bwahahahaha," he said without enthusiasm. He sighed.

"What is it?" Link asked.

"I just wish I could actually do something, y'know, wizard-y," Davin said morosely. "So far the only tools in my revenge arsenal are a minion who's smarter than the average Moblin and a dimwitted Hero who keeps getting beaten up all the time."

Grarffnarg reached out to place a reassuring paw on his shoulder. "It's a start," he said hopefully.

Davin nodded once. "You're right." He stood up straighter, propping his fists on his hips so that his cloak would billow more impressively. "Come on, guys; if we keep a good pace, we can get to the border by sunrise."

"Are you sure?" Link asked.

"No," Davin said boldly. "But that's never stopped me before." He pointed a commanding finger toward Hyrule. "Go forth, my minions!"

Grarffnarg charged ahead excitedly, but Link stopped and frowned at him. "I'm not your minion."

Davin kicked his ass. Literally; right in the buttocks. "Yes, you are. Don't argue."

Link sighed in defeat. "Yes, Master."

He charged ahead to join Grarffnarg, followed quickly by Davin, whose confidence was buoyed by just how impressively his cloak was billowing as he ran. There are few things more satisfying than a properly billowing cloak; it must be why so many people in fiction wear them.

As they charged toward their destinies, Grarffnarg turned to Davin. "Can we make sure the next chapter is called 'Davinception', please? That's what this chapter was supposed to be called, and it's been bugging me this whole time."

"Sure," Davin promised. He glared up at the sky. "I know how annoying it is when stories don't go the way they're supposed to."

The Author had no idea of the insanity coming his way.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: Holy crap, a new chapter? I bet you thought I forgot all about this story. Well, actually, yes I did, mostly because of my more serious main project. But right now I'm in the mood to take a short break and write something loony, so I'm going to finally finish this.<p>

Davin the Dark Side Comedian will return in 'Davinterminable', coming soon.


End file.
